Relate To Me
by Word Player
Summary: Short drabbles about the relations in the series. The product of my imaginations when small idea's hit. Mostly Huddy, but I'll expand to other characters. They won't all be romance, but most will be. Rated for future language and allusions.


Shameless Huddy. Know a good challenge site? Direct me there!

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It had been a long day at work. Four hours in the clinic, heaven forbid he actually do work, he spent three watching his stories on the porta-tv he stashed in exam room twelve. Did he feel bad? For about a second. He got over silly things like that pretty quick.

He just couldn't forget her face.

She had walked in on him and the look she gave him could have made Mother Theresa cry.

Damn deans. They needed to mess with just about everything.

Of course House felt bad about that. It wasn't her fault the hospital was constantly full of sick people. None interesting, at least not for the past week or so, and the pileup in the clinic was nearing disaster. She was frustrated, annoyed, angry and hopeless. House knew she wouldn't fire him. She knew she wouldn't fire him. Taking advantage of someone normally didn't make him feel so vile.

He was lying on his couch, his bad leg propped up on a pillow, the other bent at the knee. A pretty little piano piece was playing in the background and a trumpet began to play on the track as well. House closed his eyes, his hands laced together on his chest as he breathed in and out.

The look on her face came back to him.

Damn deans.

He shifted, reaching out for his pills. He quickly uncorked the lid and sat up. Throwing back his head he crunched up the pills in his mouth and swallowed. Shaking his head a bit, he clenched the edge of the sofa. He had already tripled the dosage he was supposed to take in an hour (not that it really meant anything) and could really feel the drugs starting to pound in his brain. His leg was stiff, not sore. No pain. A few minutes of bliss. He lived for these few minutes.

Pathetic.

He frowned. Where did that come from? A knock on the door interrupted the piano's flawless melody and he reached for his cane, contemplated the dark wood, and then put it aside. No pain. No pain.

House picked himself up and shuffled over to the door. The knock came again, hard and insistent. He came to the door and looked out the small peephole. Just who he wanted to deal with.

He unlocked the door and leaned against the wall as he opened it.

"What?" He asked gruffly, holding the door tightly in case she tried to push her way in. She just stood there.

"Let me in." Subdued. She didn't want to fight. Shit. That was the only way he knew how to handle her.

"No."

"House."

Oh god. That voice. He looked at her and she had that look on again. Like she was completely helpless. He hated her weakness, hated her vulnerability, hated how everything for her was personal.

He let go of the door and walked back over to the couch. He sat down as she entered and looked around the slightly messy apartment. As she shut the door he lay down, helping his bad leg up. Stiff, not sore. Thank all and any of the gods for Vicodin. It was his one true savior. He shut his eyes softly and put his hands back over his chest. Bliss, bliss, bliss.

"I just wanted to ask if there was anything wrong."

Who? Oh, she was still here. House opened his eyes. She was standing at the edge of the sofa, twisting her hands behind her back. His eyes deftly surveyed her, darting from her eyes to her hair to her mussed up clothes. She had changed shoes. When he responded he wasn't sarcastic. Tired. Drained. Empty.

"Not right now." House muttered, closing his eyes again.

"Is that you're answer?" She was getting annoyed.

"For the next few hours it is."

"House please."

"What do you want?" House asked. House couldn't tell but she looked surprised.

"I just said-"

"No." He cut her off, waving a hand in the air. "What do you hope to get out of this?" I mean, really. "What could you possibly think will happen?"

"Well." She started and paused. He took the gap to open his eyes and push himself into a sitting position.

"I'm nearly stoned." His face was lined and his voice was rough. Matter-of-fact. She took it well. "I'm tired. I'm beat. I just want to enjoy some music and some time alone. I want to get rid of the pain for a couple more hours just so I can drift to sleep without thinking too much." He was saying more than he normally did. Drugs did funny things. "Is there anything you really want?"

She smiled. A small sad smile. Like she knew what he was going through. It caught him by surprise. She took a few steps forward and sat at the edge of the couch. He stayed still as she looked over his face. He turned away and down, looking at his leg.

"I just want you to be ok." She whispered softly, reaching out a hand and brushing his hair back a bit before taking it back, staring at her hand as she pressed her folded fingers into her lap. A schoolgirl blush rose on her cheeks as House looked sharply at her.

"I don't think that's going to happen." He said after a few minutes.

"I know."

He slid back down, lying fully prone on the sofa. The small of Lisa's back pressed against her side and House's arm snaked around her waist, resting on her hips gently as the sat in silence.

"So this is the way it's going to be." She said, staring at the mantle in front of her.

His eyes narrowed and then closed, his lips pursed in a tight line before he relaxed, sighing a bit, his fingers beginning to trace idle patterns on her hip.

"Yep."

Lisa slid down the couch, sitting on the floor. House's arm was now around her shoulders, his elbow crooked around her neck and his hand clutching protectively at her shoulder. She sighed and shrugged a bit.

"Ok."

They sat there in silence for a while. Later that night Lisa led him lightly to bed, teasing him softly. She fell asleep, still clothed in her blouse and skirt, heels kicked off.

House drifted asleep, a small smile fading on his lips. He would be ok for more than just a few hours. Maybe this would be less of a disaster than he hoped.

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Too much? Tell me what you think.


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